The Box
by Chameleon1
Summary: My first fic!! It's a 3x4 short. It's sweet, but the style is a bit odd.


Hey, this is the first fanfic I have ever posted, so please be kind and post some reviews or drop me a line at chameleon@lunap.com. Just a note of caution- this story has shonen-ai, or boys' love. If that offends you in any way please hit the "Back" button on your browser now. If you're still reading, then I'll let you know that it's a 3x4. They make the cutest couple! Author's notes usually won't be quite so long, pardon the extreme length this time. Disclaimer at the end.  
  
The Box  
By Chameleon  
  
Snow covered the ground like a frozen blanket and lay draped across barren tree branches. Christmas was always a busy time of year at the Winner mansion, and this year was no exception. The five Gundam pilots had gathered on Christmas Eve for an elaborate holiday dinner. After they had eaten, they made their way into the living room to exchange gifts. All the gifts they gave one another were rather ordinary- a sweater, a book or two, and so on. They sat and talked long into the night, wineglasses in hand, and a cheery fire roaring in the marble fireplace. At first it seemed unnatural, this respite from the fighting, being able to relax. But soon, their tongues loosened by the alcohol in their wine, they began to chat as though they had been close friends for years. Even the ever-silent Trowa began to loosen up, even letting loose a couple of rare laughs. It was during this time that Quatre blurted out to Trowa, "I have something for you." Trowa had cocked his head to the side and looked at Quatre in curiosity until the blonde blushed and turned away. Duo and Heero shot knowing glances at each other and stood up to leave.  
"Going so soon?" Quatre jumped to his feet, always the proper host.  
"Yes, I think Duo's had too much to drink. I'd better take him home." Quatre glanced at Duo, who actually seemed quite sober, and shrugged. It really wasn't his place to stick his nose into other people's business. Besides, he knew that the two were lovers, Duo had confided this in him several weeks ago.  
"Well, if you must," he replied. Wufei stood up a little unsteadily and staggered towards the door. The others stepped aside to let him pass. They were all a bit surprised, for it was unlike Wufei to get drunk. For the most part, he was a responsible drinker, oftentimes their designated driver. Ah, well, everybody has their moments.  
"I'd better take him home too," Heero said in reference to Wufei's drunken state. "I don't trust him to get himself there."  
"It's been a pleasure having you guys here. Sorry you have to leave so soon. I guess we'll be seeing each other before too much longer. This can't last forever, as much as I wish it could." Quatre sighed heavily as he watched them make their way out the front door. "Goodbye!" he called after their retreating figures. Heero turned and stared at Quatre for a moment before helping Duo and Wufei down the steps and across the lawn. Turning back around, Quatre was startled to find Trowa's emerald green eyes locked on his own.  
"What is it you have for me, Little One?" he asked. Quatre blushed at the use of the affectionate nickname and broke eye contact. Taking a long, slender box off the shelf he handed it to Trowa.  
"It really isn't much," he stammered. "Just something I wanted you to have." Trowa carefully unwrapped the present. Slitting the tape that held it closed with a miniature replica of one of Catherine's circus knives, he lifted the lid off and set it aside. Nestled inside amongst the tissue paper was the flute he had played not long after they had first met on the battlefield. Quatre watched anxiously for some sort of a reaction. He hoped that Trowa liked it, but he was so quiet it was always hard to tell. He had lifted the flute out of the box and was running his lean fingers across the silver keys that Quatre had polished to perfection just before he had wrapped it up a few days ago. After admiring it for a few minutes, he put it to his lips and began to play. It was a sweet little tune, lilting and singsong and lyrical, rather short, but beautiful nonetheless. The crystal clear notes filled the room, lingering long after he had finished.  
"That was beautiful," Quatre breathed in admiration.  
"Thank you, Little One, for the gift." Trowa smiled, the expression lighting up his face. Quatre knew then why he smiled so rarely. It was too beautiful to be seen often; it would lose its meaning, as so many things already had.  
"Then, you like it?" Waiting for an answer, Quatre discovered he had been holding his breath. Forcing himself to draw air into his burning lungs once more, he looked to Trowa for a reply.  
"It is the best gift I have ever received," he replied sincerely. He held a box out to Quatre. "For you," he said simply. Quatre gingerly took the box from his outstretched hand, gulping at the electric shocks that were sent racing up and down his spine as their fingers brushed. He had to wonder if Trowa had noticed, but then chided himself for his childishness, imagining that Trowa could possibly feel the same way. Beneath a layer of green wrapping paper that nearly matched Trowa's eyes in color lay the gift. It was a box. Granted, it was a very beautiful box, carved from golden wood and inlaid with mother of pearl, but deep down Quatre had hoped for something a little more personal.  
"Thank you." The corners of his mouth curved upwards in what he hoped was a convincing smile. He wasn't about to admit his disappointment; he had been surprised that Trowa had even thought to give him another present. "It's beautiful!" He did his best to sound sincere.  
"Open it." For a moment, Quatre wondered why he would possibly need to open it, but shrugged it off and did as Trowa said. Music spilled out of the box, each haunting note perfectly in tune. It was a music box, and the song it played seemed oddly familiar... Quatre gasped in realization.  
"This is the first song we ever played together," he whispered, suddenly very ashamed. "How can I ever thank you?"  
"You don't have to." Quatre wrapped his arms around the taller boy, pulling him close in an awkward embrace. After a second's hesitation, Trowa returned the hug, his long arms holding his golden angel to his chest. If only it could last forever... if only moments could be captured, and sealed in glass jars; precious seconds that ticked on endlessly, yet never long enough...  
Quatre's head had drooped slightly, falling to rest on Trowa's chest. "Ai shiteru," he murmured sleepily. "And thank you." His eyelids fluttered shut, long golden lashes brushing against his pale cheeks. He looked like an angel, a heavenly messenger sent to bring peace to a ravaged universe in the midst of war. Watching him sleep, still held in his arms, Trowa could forget, if only for a moment, that all too soon this peace would end. They would be forced into battle once more, to fight for their lives, their right to live normal lives again. But they all knew that it wasn't possible, not now, after they had fought so long. They had given up all chances at normality the moment they had first laid eyes on a Gundam. It was too late to change what they themselves had helped to bring about. He vowed then to protect the boy in his arms at all costs, even if it meant his own life. War would not scar this gentle being who lay in his arms, oblivious to the world around him. He still carried with him an air of childlike innocence, almost to the point of naivete. And yet, at a mere fourteen years of age he had already experienced the harsh reality of war, the cruel certainty of death. He was not untainted, none of them were anymore, but he would not be scarred. This was the promise Trowa made to him, now, and forever.  
Brushing wispy strands of spun gold off of Quatre's face, Trowa sighed heavily. A glance at the grandfather clock in the corner told him that it was far past Quatre's usual bedtime. Hefting the frail boy in his muscled arms, Trowa headed upstairs. After climbing seemingly endless flights of stairs, he arrived at his destination. He pulled Quatre's shoes off and placed them by the bed before tucking the covers around the still-sleeping boy. Brushing a soft kiss across Quatre's forehead, Trowa whispered, "Ai shiteru, Little One. More than you'll ever know." And with that, he turned off the light, throwing the room into shadowed darkness, and shut the door behind him as he left, carrying not only his flute, but hope and love as well.  
The moon sliced a path through the window, softly illuminating the peaceful smile on certain golden angel's face with its pearly glow.  
~finis~   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I claim to. Please refrain from suing the author. Thank you, and have a nice day.  



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